I had one last toss to complete my turn.
There was a big part of me that wanted to tank this match and be done with this whole damn day. It was practically my adolescent pastime to try to mess with Mac and keep her from getting what she wanted. If she was going to get in my face and sling insults, my natural inclination was to get back at her, though. Then, there was the competitive idiot who lived inside me. He wanted to get her goat and give it a tug.
So I hefted the beanbag in my right hand, kept my eyes on hers, and sank it into the hole on the opposite board without even looking.
Her victorious little smirk made something flicker to life in my chest. Something that had been cold and dark since she’d walked out three weeks ago. I worried there’d always be some part of me that craved her attention, yearned for it.
Mac wrapped the game up on the next turn, hitting twenty-one points easily. The moms gave us hugs and wished us luck in the tournament. Then they ambled off together to grab more drinks with umbrellas in them.
In the next round, we faced off against Mason Gentry and the tourist-turned-resident Becca Kernsy. Her whole face lit up when she saw the two of us.
Mason was a high school junior and a pretty good baseball player. He was also staring at Becca like she was a Disney princess.
Despite playing against her friend, Mac had her game face on. When it was my turn to toss, I swung my arm back, took a step forward, and heard her call out, “Foot fault!”
I stared at Mac incredulously. “I’m on your team!”
She winced. “Right. Shit, sorry.” Then louder, “His foot was fine!”
Becca shrugged and grinned. “Today is the first time I’ve ever played. I have no idea where your feet are even supposed to go.”
Mason didn’t object when I resumed my turn because, again, he was mooning over the blond opposite him.
Mac and I won the round easily.
Becca hugged me hard afterward. “Good luck. I’m pulling for you.”
I patted her back awkwardly as Mason glared at me over her shoulder.
We had a few minutes until the next round of the tournament started. There was a low stone wall around the perimeter of the lawn. I sat down and stared out at the water, feeling confused and wrung out.
The sun was setting, turning the sky shades of pink and orange. Café lights strung over the lawn clicked on right as Mac climbed over the wall. She passed me a bottle of beer and sat down next to me. Not so close that our shoulders brushed, but not so far that I couldn’t remember how it felt when they did.
“The next game will be tough,” she said, then sipped from her own bottle.
Mac looked soft and warm in this light, her cheeks and the bridge of her nose a little pink from being out in the sun this afternoon.
As difficult as it was to be around her like this, I relished it. After weeks of silence, here she was, right beside me. She’d been egging me on and teasing me, smiling my way. We were having fun, and I had to admit that when forced to choose between nothing and something ... I’d pick something every time.
I cleared my throat. “Oh, yeah? Who are we up against?”
“Mattie and Seth.” She pointed over my shoulder. “They’re just finishing up.”
Turning, I followed where she’d indicated. The game must have just wrapped because the two players were high-fiving one another.
Mattie was Matilda Bartholomew, the owner of Mattie B’s downtown. She was a badass behind the bar who didn’t take shit from anyone. We locals had managed to keep Mattie B’s a hometown secret by review bombing on social media. The leafers mostly hit Magnolia Bar as a result, and that worked for all of us.
Mattie was also a regular star on the rec league softball circuit. And her current cornhole partner was just as good. Seth Rockford was Jordan’s teenage brother. He’d played baseball since he was a toddler, so he’d likely have a good arm and aim.
I slowly spun back to face Mac. “How do you want to play it?”
She swallowed and looked out at the water. “Come out swinging. They only need a few turns to put it away. We keep it as close as we can.”
I nodded and decided I wanted her attention back on me. “I think you should play across from Seth and unbutton the top two buttons on your shirt.”
Her attention snapped to my face, gray eyes flashing. “I’m not doing that. He’s seventeen years old.”
I grinned and let my eyes dip purposefully to her chest. “Exactly.”
